


Good Luck Charm

by tamlane



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Coercion, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Going to Hell, Loss of Virginity, Manipulation, Non-Consensual, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 13:50:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4879270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamlane/pseuds/tamlane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a Slytherin tradition that the Quidditch captain be given a good luck charm on the eve of the Quidditch Cup match.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Luck Charm

**Author's Note:**

> **This fic contains potentially triggering material. Please review archive warnings and tags before reading.**
> 
> Set during _Prisoner of Azkaban_ , so Pansy is 13-14. I've been craving a fic like this for ages, so I broke down and wrote one. And boy am I rusty at this writing gig… (September 2015)

"Good thing you're an arse man, Flint. She ain't got no tits at all."

"I bet she's got one tight little cunt, though."

"You wouldn't even know where to find it, Bole."

"Hey sweetheart, hope you weren't planning on sitting down anytime soon."

The taunts brought tears to Pansy Parkinson's eyes as she followed Marcus Flint to the seventh year boys' dorm. It felt like they'd been walking forever, and each step had been met with a cruder remark from behind her. 

Pansy couldn't believe this was happening. She had seen it happen to someone else, of course. First year, she and Daphne had sniggered with everyone else as one of the older girls had taken the walk of shame through the common room and disappeared into the labyrinth of the dormitories. Pansy realized now that she'd been naïve to think it couldn't happen to her at any time. Every Slytherin girl's name went into the previous year's cup.

She always thought she'd be with Draco the first time she came back here. 

"Aww, is she crying? Poor thing!"

"Save those tears, baby. Flint'll give you something to cry about soon enough."

"Come on, Flint, at least give us a peek at her before you get started. It'll boost morale."

"'fraid not, boys," Marcus said, stopping at last in front of the dorm and opening it with a wave of his wand. "And shut up. You're scaring her. Go on in, love."

Pansy obeyed at once. No matter what awaited her in that dorm, it couldn't be worse than the humiliation she'd suffered from the rest of the team.

"All right, you've had your fun," Marcus said, shooing them with his wand.

"Oi, watch it with that thing, genius!"

"Enough," Marcus snapped. "My hour starts now."

Pansy heard one final "fuck her good, cap'n" before Marcus shut and locked the door.

"Bloody hell," he groaned, tossing his wand onto a nearby nightstand. "Sorry about them. They're brutes. I'm not like that, promise."

He plopped onto the adjacent four-poster bed, propping himself up on his elbows. Pansy stood just inside the door, eyeing him anxiously. No matter what he said, he looked even worse than the rest of them. He was eighteen; he wasn't even supposed to be at Hogwarts this year. He must have been about five times the size of the blokes in her year. He barely even fit on the bed.

When she considered that she was about to be naked on that bed with him, the built-up tears fell. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out loud. This wasn't the way she was supposed to lose her virginity. It was supposed to be with Draco, and they were supposed to be Head Boy and Head Girl, and there were going to be candles and lingerie and rose petals, and it was going to be perfect.

"Hey, no crying, love," Marcus said in a gentle voice that didn't match his face. "It ain't that bad. Come 'ere." He patted the bed beside him.

"No," Pansy replied, figuring it was worth a try. "I don't want to."

He sighed heavily. "Don't be like that. I ain't gonna hurt you. You'll be glad about all this when we win tomorrow."

Pansy had never cared less about the Quidditch Cup. "It's a stupid tradition," she blurted out, twisting her skirt in her fists.

"You're looking at this the wrong way. You're the most important person in Slytherin tonight, don't you see?" He gave her a smile, his oversized, crooked teeth gleaming in the pale green light of the lake water. "You're the good luck charm. A very pretty good luck charm, at that. Didn't you see the other blokes fallin' all over themselves with jealousy?"

Pansy had barely been able to process anything when her name had been called. All she remembered was a haze of sniggers and cat-calls and barely being able to feel her legs under her as she walked forward. She'd tried to block everything else out. Had there really been blokes looking at her like that? Had Draco been one of them? Or would he think of her as used goods now?

"You're doing a good thing for your House," Marcus went on. "You know we got a lot riding on that match tomorrow. Everybody's counting on you." He shrugged. "And anyway, nobody has to know what really happened up here, yeah? We don't have to do anything if you really don't want to."

Pansy squinted at him. "You mean that?"

"Sure. Just come sit down for a minute. You'll at least let me look at you, won't you?"

Marcus wasn't being the way she expected at all. Not that Pansy had known what to expect from this, but when she thought about Marcus Flint, she thought about roughness and brute force. The bloke lounging on that bed was huge and ugly, yes, but he was also so… laid back. So sure of himself. Just like when he was on Quidditch pitch, weaving in and out among the other Chasers, scooping the Quaffle out of the air in a tight embrace and sending it soaring again before she even realized what had happened to it.

Maybe she _was_ looking at all this the wrong way, she reasoned, slowly walking forward. She eased herself down on the edge of his bed, smoothing her skirt over her knees.

"There. That wasn't hard, was it?" Marcus sat up and scooted closer until she could feel his rough trousers leg brushing against her bare calf. "You're a cute little thing, ain't ya? You got a boyfriend?"

"What does it matter?" Pansy snapped – partly because it didn't matter and partly because the answer was embarrassing.

"Hey," Marcus said, spreading his hands in a conciliatory gesture, "I just wanna know how much I got to live up to here."

Pansy's face heated. She avoided his eye, playing with a loose string on his duvet. 

He scooted a little closer. She could feel the dip in the bed behind her where he balanced his weight on his hand. His thick chest brushed against her arm. "One thing's for sure," he said. "Warrington's nuts. You've got great tits."

Pansy felt a rush of butterflies in her stomach, though she didn't know if it was from his proximity or the compliment. She didn't think her breasts were _too_ small, certainly not as small as the team was letting on. They were bigger than Daphne's, anyway. "You're just saying that."

"No, I'm not." He was quiet for a second. "Can I see them?"

She swallowed, her heartbeat picking up. She'd flashed Blaise on the train on the way back from holidays, but that was on a dare. She'd never seriously let a boy see her breasts before, and she'd never imagined Marcus Flint would be the first. 

"Come on, don't be shy. Lemme have a look."

There was no way Pansy was going to open her shirt for him. But for some reason, she didn't stop him when his fingers started working her buttons free. 

"Just a look," he purred, pulling her shirt open.

Pansy squeezed her eyes closed, biting into her lip as the cool air of the dungeon kissed the bare skin above her plain white bra. 

Marcus whistled. "Pretty as a picture." She felt a thrill go through her at the words, so much that she didn't even protest when he eased her bra cups down over her breasts. It was so chilly down here; she could feel her nipples harden at once. "Very pretty. Anybody ever played with them before?"

She shook her head, not trusting her voice. This was madness. She should stop him, but with her eyes closed, and with his soft voice in her ear, she found that she wanted to be touched, if for no other reason than out of curiosity. Everyone was going to think she was a slag now, anyway. She might as well get some small enjoyment out of it, right?

"Can I play with them for a minute?" Marcus asked, but he didn't wait for an answer. His big, rough hand cupped one breast, his thumb lightly circling her nipple. Pansy gasped, grabbing a handful of the duvet, trying to stay still. She refused to arch into the touch, even if felt a million times better than when she touched them herself.

"See?" Marcus panted in her ear. "That's not so bad, is it, love?"

She couldn't answer. She couldn't do anything but try not to visibly shake as his hand explored her, caressing and kneading the soft flesh, much more softly than she would have expected. He gently plucked her nipple, and she had to swallow a whimper.

"Feels kinda nice, don't it?" He rolled the opposite nipple around and around in his fingers, worrying it into a hard, tight bud.

Pansy didn't dare move or speak for fear she would betray how good it felt. She was sure it shouldn't feel so good. She didn't even like Marcus Flint. But she didn't have to, she supposed. Her body certainly didn't seem to care.

"Want me to make it feel even better?"

She felt the unmistakable wetness of his tongue, and then his lips closing around her. He sucked, and Pansy cried out reflexively, grabbing his thigh. He hummed, pulling hard at her nipple before letting it go with a wet sound. A moment later, his tongue lapped at the peak. He repeated it several times, until it felt so good that it almost hurt.

"You like that?" he whispered, moving to the other.

Pansy's nails dug into his thigh as he worked on her with his mouth. Her nipples ached under the attention, and to her dismay, the ache went straight between her legs. She could feel his breath against her neck as he went back to rubbing and pinching them.

"I like 'em all hard like that," he panted. "You like it when I use my mouth on them?"

"It's okay," she answered.

He hummed, pulling her earlobe between his lips just as he had her nipple. "Why don't you let me touch you down there for a minute." His hand was somehow already creeping up her skirt, gently squeezing her thigh. "I think you'll like that, too."

Pansy grabbed his wrist, panicking. "No. Please don't."

"Why not?" he whispered. 

She opened her eyes and looked at him, not knowing how to say what she was thinking. She'd let this go too far already; her brain was all fuzzy. All she knew was that she didn't want _him_ to know—

"Are you hot down there?" He gave her a wicked grin. "Are you wet?"

"Please don't," she begged.

"It's okay, love. Lemme feel."

"Please. It's embarrassing," she whinged, pressing her legs together.

"No, it's not. It's hot." His hand slipped further under her skirt, massaging her leg. "Lemme feel. Open your legs for me. Please? Just for a minute?"

Pansy reluctantly parted her legs, but she kept her hand clamped around his bulky forearm, convincing herself that she could still push him away. Then he flattened two fingers against her knickers and stroked.

She could have shot through the ceiling. She did this to herself all the time. How was it possible that it felt so much better when he did it – this oaf whom she didn't even like? 

Marcus groaned against her neck. "That's hot." He kept moving his fingers over her in long, gentle strokes that made her want to arch to get more. "So fucking hot."

"It is?"

"Oh yeah. Lemme…" He moved her sticky crotch aside and slowly slid his fingers over her bare flesh.

Pansy cried out at the sensation. She couldn't help it; it was so intense. He slipped one finger between her lips and softly rubbed it up and down. It slid easily through her wetness, and each time he grazed her clitoris, it felt so good she could barely stand it. Her legs shook from trying to keep still.

"Yes," he hissed, moving his fingers in a slow, steady rhythm. "You ever touch yourself down there?"

"No," Pansy lied. "Of course not."

Marcus chuckled. "I would. If I had a cunt, I'd be rubbing it all day long."

It was like he'd given her permission. Suddenly nothing could have kept her hips from rocking. She arched into the rhythm of his hand, and before she knew it, she was lying back on his bed, thrusting up against him as he licked and sucked at her nipple. She'd never felt so much sensation at once. She writhed against his fingers, and he rutted against her leg. It was like something had taken over them, and they weren't even human anymore.

She licked her dry lips. Suddenly curious about the hardness she felt against her thigh, she asked, "Do you rub your…"

"'Course I do. Sometimes I think about you when I rub it."

"No you don't."

"No lie," he panted. "I'm glad it was your name got picked."

She knew _that_ was a lie. What would the Quidditch captain want with a third year? "You didn't even know my name until it got picked."

"That's not true. I know you," he said, but he didn't say her name. "I've thought about tasting you down there."

Pansy knew he was lying, but she nonetheless released a low whine at the thought. If his fingers felt that good, how would his mouth feel? He circled the tip of his tongue around and around her distended nipple, as though reading her mind. She knew she should stop all this, but honestly, when might she get another chance to try something like that? The boys in her year were still more interested in dungbombs than girlfriends. Marcus Flint might not have been _Witch Weekly_ cover material, but she couldn't deny he knew what he was doing.

"Isn't that gross?" Pansy asked. She'd never had the nerve to taste herself before, but she couldn't imagine it was very pleasant. It seemed messy, too.

Marcus didn't seem to think so, though. He moaned, mouthing at the sensitive underside of her breast. "Hell no. I love the way it tastes. Lemme taste it." He kissed a trail up her neck. "Please? It'll feel good, I promise."

"Just for a minute?" 

"Yeah, of course. We can stop if you don't like it." He pulled his hand out from under her skirt, and Pansy stopped rocking her hips with some effort. "Here," he said, reaching back to rearrange his pillows at the head of the bed. "Stretch out this way, it will be more comfortable."

Pansy reluctantly scooted back against the pillows. She worried about being laid out flat on his bed, though she supposed that was silly. If he wanted to push her to do anything, he didn't need the bed at all. "You promise you'll stop if I say so?"

"I promise. These are in the way. Let's take 'em off." He tugged at her knickers, pulling them down over her hips. He left them hanging around one ankle. "That's better. Bend your legs back."

It was a terribly revealing position to get into. She couldn't quite believe she was letting Marcus Flint spread her wide open like that. She watched, entranced, as he settled down between her legs, licking his lips.

"Fuck. Your little fanny is so gorgeous," he whispered. 

She had no idea if he was telling the truth. He did seem to like the look of it. His eyes were hooded as he spread her lips apart with this thumbs, gently as ever. 

"Look at that hot little clit," he said, and then he touched her there, right on her most sensitive spot.

Pansy's hips shot forward. It was almost too much.

"So sensitive," he said with a lazy smile. "Wait'll you feel this." He flicked his tongue over the same spot. Pansy reflexively grabbed at his short, coarse hair, but he kept right on torturing her. She shouted. It was so intense. He circled the tip of his tongue around and around, just like he'd done to her nipple.

"Please," she cried, though she didn't know what she was begging for.

Marcus chuckled. Then he flattened his tongue against her and gave her a long, slow, heavy lick. He hummed like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted, and he did it again and again, stopping to flick at her clitoris at the end of each swipe. Then he closed his lips around it and sucked, and Pansy couldn't help herself. Her legs closed around his head.

He hummed at that, too, and started licking and sucking faster, harder. She could actually feel herself dripping against his tongue, and for a moment, she was worried it might be more than just arousal. But if it was, he wasn’t deterred. Pansy rocked her hips instinctively against his face, panting. Her whole pelvis started to shake. She'd had orgasms, but she'd never felt anything like this. It wasn't a climax; it was just pure, maddening sensation.

It scared her, and she suddenly pushed him away, closing her legs. "I'm sorry!" she cried when he looked up at her, his face coated in her slickness. "I don’t know why I'm shaking like that. I can't stop."

"Are you kidding?" Marcus spread her back open. "I love making you shake like that. Keep those legs spread, though, or you'll suffocate me."

And with that, he went right back to it. He was tireless. Ruthless. He toyed with her clitoris until she could feel a puddle of arousal collecting under her bum, and then he lapped her clean with long swipes of his tongue. He grunted like an animal against her, forcing her legs back when they threatened to close. It felt amazing, but somehow not good enough to come. Still, she thrust against his mouth, wondering how long he'd do this, wondering how much of the hour was left.

As though reading her mind, he suddenly ceased, kissing and mouthing his way up her torso. He stopped to pull at one nipple, and Pansy wrapped her legs around him, still needing to thrust against something. Marcus was panting against her chest, her neck, and then, somehow, he was situated between her legs, thrusting back against her.

He lowered his mouth to hers.

"No," she said, turning her head. "It's gross."

"You're crazy," he said with a smile. "Kiss me. It's good."

But she could smell it on him, and she didn't want to. "I don't like it."

"You're crazy," he repeated. He reached between them, and then she heard the sound of his buckle and his zipper.

"What are you doing?" she asked, suddenly feeling caged under his enormous body.

"Nothing, nothing. Just let me rub against you a little bit, yeah? I won't put it in, I promise."

"You promise?"

"Yeah, just let me feel you, that's all."

And then she felt it, rubbing against her. His cock. Marcus Flint's cock. He moaned, nestling the shaft against her and grinding his hips in a slow rhythm. 

Pansy froze, afraid to grind back, lest one enthusiastic motion seat him inside her. But he seemed to know what he was doing, and she couldn't deny that it felt just as good as everything else they'd done. This was nuts. She'd never even seen a real, actual cock before, yet here she was with one rubbing up and down against her, so close to being inside her.

"Feels so good," he purred against her neck. "You're so wet. I bet it'd slide right in if you let me try it. I bet it wouldn't hurt at all."

She grabbed at his upper arms, though she didn't stop him. How could she? She couldn't even fit her hands all the way around his arms, much less try to dislodge him from atop her. She suddenly realized what a precarious position she'd let herself get into. "I'm scared," she admitted.

"Ain't nothing to be scared of. There's probably a million girls out there doing it right now. Loving it."

"But…"

"But what?"

Pansy didn't know what to say. Part of her was actually curious enough to think she might want to try it. She'd already gone this far. And from everything else they'd done, it seemed like he'd be the right person to do it with. He seemed to care about whether or not she felt good.

He slowed his hips, though he didn't stop. "You worried about getting knocked up?"

"Yeah," she answered because it was more convenient than the pathetic idea that she'd been holding out for something special.

His motion sped back up. He kissed her neck. "Madame Pomfrey can give you something for that in the morning. She won't ask no questions, either. Plenty of the girls go to her for it all the time."

"They do?"

"Course they do. Fact of life, ain't it? Lemme put it in, just for a minute."

Pansy squeezed her eyes closed. She couldn't believe she was agreeing to this. "You promise you'll take it back out if I don't like it?"

"Absolutely. I promise. Relax." Marcus was already reaching between them, and then she felt the blunt tip of his cock against her opening. He pushed against her with that same slow grind of his hips, pumping the tip in and out of her. Was this it? Was this sex? She got her answer a moment later when he thrust forward a little harder. She felt herself tear.

"No, no, I don't like it anymore," she said, panicking.

"Shh. Just relax. It won't hurt for long." He thrust again, and the tearing sensation got worse.

"No, it hurts too much," Pansy said, squeezing her eyes shut. "Take it out."

"Easy, I'm almost there now," he said, driving forward with another, harder thrust.

Pansy cried out, and his mouth came down messily over hers, silencing her. She winced as she tasted herself on him, tart and thick. He thrust again, and he had to be buried. She prayed he was all the way in. The stretch, the intrusion was almost unbearable. She tore her mouth away from his, her face twisted up. "It hurts really, really bad," she whinged.

"It'll get better," he said, pumping his hips a little harder. "Just relax and hold on."

She tried to concentrate on breathing, on relaxing, but it wasn't getting any better. "Please."

Marcus was ignoring her now, his hips driving forward hard enough to make the bed creak. "Fucking hell, your cunt is tight," he gritted out. "I can barely move."

He didn't let it stop him. He picked up his pace even more, until his groin was finally slapping against hers, the wet, sloppy sound filling the room. Her body made an embarrassing noise, and Pansy sobbed, but he kept right on, harder and faster, grunting into her neck. All she could do was lie crushed beneath his weight and endure it.

"So hot, so fucking hot," he panted. "Not gonna last." He drove into her so hard that the pillow moved out from under her head and fell off the bed. "Oh fuck, oh _fuck_ ," he shouted, and then he stilled, buried all the way inside her. His body shook, and Pansy could feel him pulsing between her legs, inside her. She sobbed, so glad it was over.

Marcus sighed against her neck, making slow, shallow thrusts. A few times he twitched and cursed. Then finally, finally he pulled out altogether, leaving Pansy feeling raw and gaping. She wondered if she was bleeding. It certainly felt like it. The bed was a soggy mess under her bum. Her knickers hung off one ankle, her bra pushed down, but other than that, they were still almost fully dressed. She couldn't figure out how it had all happened so fast.

Then he was back to the humming, back to the gentle kisses against her neck. "You're the perfect good luck charm. We're gonna win, I can feel it." He chuckled. "At least I hope so, for your sake."

"What do you mean?"

He plucked idly at one of her nipples, rubbing his sweaty forehead against her cheek. "You ain't heard the whole story about the lottery?"

Pansy swallowed heavily, not sure she wanted to know.

"If we lose," he said, "the whole team gets you at once. You know, consolation prize. But don't worry, love. We haven't lost the Cup in years."


End file.
